APOCALYPTIC EVENTS
by Chick Feed
Summary: Pestilence's newest creation attracts the attention of a powerful admirer, someone in a position to help him achieve his ambitions and who appreciates his skills. All his new friend wants, is to set the creation free. An extinction level event that would leave behind a dead planet, once called Earth. Characters: Four Horsemen, Crowley, The Darkness. SPOILERS: S10 Ep23, S11 arc.
1. Chapter 1

**SPOILER ALERT: Season 10 final ep. & Season 11 story arc**

 _A.N._ : **A.U.** as all four horsemen are alive.

Disclaimer : I don't, but if I did, I would like it :)

 **For PrawnNetwork** , who provided the prompt and requested a  
story focused on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

 **APOCALYPTIC** **EVENTS**

 _Pestilence's newest creation attracts the attention of a powerful admirer, someone in a position to help him achieve his ambitions and who appreciates  
_ _his skills. All his new friend wants, is to set the creation free. An extinction level event_ _that would leave behind a dead planet, once called Earth...  
_ _(A.U.)  
_ _Chapter 1 - Prologue  
_ _-oOo-_

Death was, well, Death. He was there when all living things came to their end, guiding and setting them on the way to the next phase, whatever that may be for each individual. When the first life form in all the universes was created, that was also the moment Death came into being. Not surprisingly, being so long practiced meant that he was extremely good at what he did. He consistently carried out his role with an air of calm and graciousness that was much appreciated by those whose time had come to an end. However, Death would openly admit that very, very recently in the eternity of his existence, there had occurred something of a "blip" that he had found to be both an irritation and an intrigue. On the planet named Earth, there were two human's who _had_ to be the most stubborn and contrary of their species. They seemed completely incapable of accepting their own demise, no matter how many times it occurred. These two humans were the only members of all the lower life forms in existence that had the ability to cause Death to feel utterly exasperated, and he was fascinated by them.

-o-

Death would never state that he enjoyed being Death, neither would he say he disliked it, he simply _was_. It contradicted his whole very ancient being, then, when he found himself not responsible for being there at the end of a life, but instead found himself in the position of being responsible for _raising_ three lives. An unforeseen role which gave him something in common with one of his two stubborn humans, a certain Dean Winchester. Like the eldest of the Winchester brothers, Death too had found himself raising close family, his own much younger brothers, Famine, War and the youngest of them all, Pestilence. Looking back, Death felt he had made mistakes in the way he had raised both Famine and War, possibly giving them too much freedom, placing too much faith in allowing them to make their _own_ mistakes, expecting that they would learn valuable lessons from those errors.

-o-

When War had arrived, it was with a lusty cry and an angry expression. Large for a newborn, he used his chubby hands to fight and rip his way through and into his own existence, the second youngest of the four brothers. Throughout his life, each time he took a risk and failed, each time he misjudged and lost, it merely served to make him more of a fighting force, more deadly. Famine was the next in age to Death and the first of his siblings that he had found himself having to care for and raise. Death had watched mesmerised as, burping and farting, lips pouted while he tried suckling on fresh air and already with a full set of milk teeth, tiny, underweight baby Famine simply ate his way into _his_ existence. As soon as he was able, tiny Famine loved to follow war wherever he went. Famine learnt swiftly that where War had been, there were always opportunities for someone of Famine's skills, and he would hungrily make use of those opportunities to extend and increase his own impacts. It was also embedded deep within Famine's nature that he should constantly seek and strive for a sense of fulfilment. Over the millenia, Famine simply couldn't accept that such a thing would always evade him, leaving him a more bitter personality than his brother, war.

-o-

Both Famine and War had, together, already left Death's care and gone on together to carve their own paths throughout the universe. meaning that Death had to spend a large part of his time tidying up after them. Whilst he found the fact an inconvenience and an additional encumbrance on his own precious time, Death never felt it was necessary to apologise for the actions of either War or Famine, having come to an acceptance that his two siblings were simply being true to their individual natures, and that _any_ apology, should there be cause for one, needed to come directly from his brothers themselves. There had been times, however, that the antics of his two arrogant brothers caused Death to feel very much on a par with the character of Cinderella from the human fairytale, always expected to remain behind to clean up, whilst War and Famine were off having a ball.

-o-

The youngest of all the brothers, Pestilence, (or _Pest_ as only Death was allowed to call him), came as a surprise package. Unexpectedly shooting himself suddenly into existence with one almighty and extremely violent sneeze. Ticker-taping his own arrival by spraying globules of thick lime green snot in all directions, including down the front of the jacket being worn by the stunned figure of Death. Death had gazed down at the glistening droplets decorating his clothing in silence, whilst Famine and War who were lucky enough to witness the arrival of their baby brother from a safe distance away, clung onto one another in their shared helpless laughter. Death eventually stopped staring at his jacket and, with a soft sigh of resignation, had instead stared at the naked, squirming baby with it's twin thick, heavy streamers of green mucous trailing from it's tiny button nose. On one side of the newborn's face, it streaked over the child's top lip and continued from there directly into the child's ear. The second streamer was carelessly draped from it's nose and lying in a straight line across the baby's cheek, before clinging along it's jaw line and culminating in a snot pool under the child's chin. Throughout Death's visual inspection, the child had grinned and gurgled up at him. Death had been completely unaware at the time that the baby was also busily imprinting on him, labelling Death officially and forever after as " _Parent_ ". Pestilence had soon turned out to be a uniquely damp child, permanently coated in either snot, vomit, sweat or diarrhoea; and on occasions, all four bodily fluids at once. He still resided at home under Death's care and guidance.

-o-

When Death had first gazed down in fascination at the snot bubble that made an appearance over one of the baby's nostrils, inflating then deflating in sync with the child's breathing; he had made the decision to parent Pest differently to how he did both War and Famine. Death's desire and intent was to be a more positive influence on the newborn as he grew. Death didn't miss the irony of himself wanting some responsibility in the shaping of the adult entity that his youngest sibling would become. And so, through all Pest's childhood, Death had made a point of being around more for the youngest of them than he was for either War or Famine. When he was old enough, Pest was allowed to accompany Death to work, by doing so, Death had hoped to teach Pest a respect for each life he would eventually become involved in.

-o-

There had been some unforeseen consequences however on a few occasions when, believing it would please his substitute father, Pest had sneaked off behind Death's back; most often going on to cause a substantial increase in Death's workload. For example, very recently on Earth, the Bubonic Plague was an event that stood out in Death's memory, if only for the fact that the blame fell on _his_ shoulders when his little brother's surprise gift to him swiftly became known as _The Black Death_. Death had found that he didn't have the desire to punish Pest. After all, the intention behind it had been motivated by the youngster's simple desire to thank Death for taking care of him. An action which Death still, on the quiet, found very sweet of his baby brother. There was a further reason for Death's difference in raising Pest. It had become very quickly clear that Pest was the brightest and most intelligent of the three of Death's siblings, a facet that would prove to be, as it were, a "Godsend" to little Pest.

-o-

War was War, and every new weapon invented, every so called _improvement_ on the old styles of combat served him well, widening the effects of all wars, whether between two neighbours or any number of planets, to encompass more and greater numbers of victims across wider and wider spectrums. Even to the innocent tiny babe carried within his or her mother's womb as yet unborn and, within an instant, never to be born at all. In all cases, whilst War continued to rage, either Death or the assistants he had been forced by War's activities to employ, would be there to clear away the debris. Even to Death, the numbers lost to the joint efforts of both War and Famine could at times feel overwhelming, and he seemed to have the constant need to dispatch Reapers in greater and greater abundance until, eventually, Death's only recourse in order to ensure he was free to attend when necessary was to limit his own appearances to those whom he felt were very special cases. Even this stipulation meant Death's working weeks were full.

-o-

Whenever the four siblings got together, Death would try to impress on War and Famine that they were not the only ones to need his input. He still had responsibilities in other areas, such as accidents, intentional killings, self inflicted demises, and illness. To be fair, War would often promise to put a hold on his activities, but however sincerely meant, it never lasted. Famine though, he was different, _special_ if you will. He couldn't help himself. He was driven. Driven by his own needs and the eternal search to sate his own emptiness. Death had often wondered in what area his own ability to parent and moments of unintentional neglect may, in part, be guilty of failing to feed and so reduce his bother's hollow feelings? Death truly felt he had done the best that he was able with Famine and War. However, when young Pest appeared, Death decided that it was possible his best could be improved. And so it was with bright little Pestilence that Death developed the closest relationship.

-o-

Pest was a fast learner, and he was adaptable, very adaptable. As he grew and began to use his talent, the inhabitants of worlds who knew nothing of the existence of one another all began to rise to the challenge his unwanted gifts presented, and they began to fight back, and on occasions to combat them, forcing Pestilence time and time again to retreat to the sanctuary of home, where he would create bigger, stronger, more complex adversaries. But the inhabitants of the planets proved they were as adaptable as he. Sometimes, living things developed immunities to Pest's favourite bacterial and viral diseases. Pest would respond by spending happy hours in his extensive laboratory that Death and he built together, mixing and experimenting, producing new strains of his virus' and bacteria. Added to that, he learned how to tweak evolution and to alter DNA, creating stronger, more powerful versions of his other pestilences such as parasites, insects, microscopic invertebrates and so on. He tested out each new strain for effectiveness. One of his more memorable tests on Earth being a plague of locusts of biblical proportions; quite literally. And his intelligence and curiosity didn't simply focus on improving what was, Pest was creative. Death couldn't help but be constantly impressed and, on occasions, downright surprised at the youngest Horseman and his new inventions, such as the double whammy HIV which eventually morphed into AIDs within it's victim. Pest's greatest achievement so far though was such a simple little bug, and yet, even now, not one race throughout the Universe and beyond had ever truly been able to combat it. Death took great pride in young Pest's invention of the common cold.

-o-

And yet, despite his eldest brother's care and devotion, in the end, Pest, like his brothers before him, found he enjoyed being a risk taker. Unfortunately, he could also be gullible. And so it was that when those Winchester boys (Yes them, _again_ ) released the Darkness upon the face of the planet Earth, it wasn't long before the Darkness sought out the youngest of the Four Horsemen. With devastating consequences.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**_Warning : Contains distressing imagery  
_** Chapter 2

-oOo-

Death heard his brother's arrival for breakfast before actually seeing him. He greeted his youngest brother's entrance without taking his eyes off the eggs he was poaching.

"Good morning Pest. What have I told you about not bringing your pets into the house?"

Pestilence batted groggily at the numerous flies buzzing around him as he sat himself down at the neatly laid out breakfast table.

"Sorry. Forgot to put 'em out last night."

Death glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes. Well, kindly show them out before we eat, there's a good lad. I assume you and your brothers had your usual raucous time last night? You certainly made enough noise when you came home in the early hours. Have some trouble finding our bed did we? I assume that was what all those thumps, bumps and bangs were?"

Pest grinned tiredly.

"We got totally blasted! Well, War an' me did. You know Famine, he can drink gallons an' still get no effect, don't hang around in his system long enough. Beats me why he bothers drinkin' at all!"

"It occurred to me a long while ago that Famine joins in with such activities in an attempt to fill his emotional void, his _famine of the mind_ if you like; just as he eats constantly in an attempt to stave off his physical emptiness. How many eggs would you like?"

Pest considered the question whilst donning a pair of white gloves that had been placed on his side plate.

"Two thanks."

-o-

Gloves on, he reached out and pulled two diagonally cut slices of toast from the toast rack and proceeded to butter them. Had he touched the bread with his bare hands, it would instantly have blackened and rotted. Death walked over and eased two eggs onto Pest's plate alongside the butter fried mushrooms, crisped onion curls and delicately seasoned baby plum tomatoes.

"What are your plans for today?"

Pest's eyes lit up.

"Today's a special day my brother. A new birth. Something I've been working on. I call it the Genesis Bug, an' I've had it brewing in the lab freezer. It's still on ice at the mo', but I'm goin' to warm it up today, see if kick starts a reproductive cycle, then time how long it takes from conception to spread."

Death looked somewhat interested.

"And what does this _Genesis_ thing do? Is it a virus? Bacteria? Parasite maybe?"

Tucking into his eggs whilst at the same time swatting flies off them, Pest shrugged.

"Dunno yet. That's the next thing to test, once I know it's spread rate. I've spliced it to try for a bacterial virus in one fast actin' package. Maybe I could try addin' parasites?"

"Really? I see. And who would feel it's impacts?"

"Dunno that either. Guess that's somethin' _else_ I gotta test. Once I'm at that stage, I'll choose a planet to release it on an' see what happens. I've got me a new strain of flu doin' the rounds on Earth right now as well. Thought I'd pop down there an' see if it's hit endemic yet. You want anythin' pickin' up while I'm out?"

Death flashed a rare smile.

"Yes, actually. If you would be so good as to bring me back more Oregano I would be most grateful. Ah, Pest? The flies? I should like to eat my breakfast without the tiresome need to fight your pets for the privilege...If you don't mind?"

-o-

As always, Pest left Death to clear the table and wash up, the fouling of things being much more his skill set, as opposed to the cleaning of them, and he headed eagerly off to his lab, his pets buzzing happily after him. Pest didn't keep a sterile laboratory environment, but rather the opposite, so a few flies laying their eggs and leaving them to hatch out into maggots everywhere wasn't, in his mind, an issue. Less than two hours later, Pest came running out of the lab with a huge smile on his face and interrupted Death in the middle of vacuuming the stairs.

"Bro'! You _gotta_ come an' see this! It's _beautiful_!"

Death doubted that, but none-the-less he turned off the vacuum cleaner in order to give Pest his undivided attention.

"Really? Well in that case my dear Pest, _please_ , lead the way."

-o-

Pestilence, from being very young, had consistently sought Death's approval and he still liked to show off his inventions to his oldest brother, waiting for his comments and thoughts, before telling anyone else about his latest achievement. If Death wasn't completely impressed, then Pestilence would scrap everything, no matter how far he had progressed, and start again. This, however, in no way influenced Death's considered opinions, he was always utterly honest in his feedback and, in so doing, sought to encourage Pestilence to always strive to be the best he could be. For a while now though, Death had wondered if he had created too _much_ of a dependence on his view point? He needed the youngest to increase his confidence in his own abilities and to feel sure of himself without the reliance on the elder Horseman's advice or input. After all, as was only natural, Death expected Pest to move on one day and hoped that he would gain success and notoriety as an individual in his own right at some point in the future. To this end, Death had begun to focus more on congratulating Pest, and much less on making any active contributions. Over the years he had witnessed the successes, the failures _and_ the unexpected surprises which resulted from Pest's experiments; but even _he_ raised an eyebrow on walking into the laboratory on this occasion.

-o-

"Oh my!"

Pest was almost skipping around Death like an extremely grubby puppy in his excitement.

"Awesome, isn't it? _Really_ awesome. Admit it! You're impressed, _aren't_ you?"

Death continued to stare at the long metal table which sat in the centre of the laboratory whilst he calculated a rough timescale in relation to how much, (relative), time had passed since Pest's creation could possibly have managed to thoroughly defrost. His eyes moved over the coated tabletop and from there to the floor where there was a semi-solid pool of the stuff glistening over most of the lab floor, it's edge less than eighteen inches from the ends of Death's footwear. Here and there, the stuff he was looking at blew thick skinned bubbles, which popped and glooped, each leaving behind a small puff of bilious green smoke as they burst. The growth rate of the stuff was unprecedented, and still more was gurgling out of the small petri-dish at it's epicentre. Death took a discrete step further back from the still spreading pool's edge.

"My oh my! I admit, I have never come across a growth rate this rapid before!"

Death's thoughts switched momentarily back to his housework.

"It _is_ likely to stop before it finds it's way into the main house, isn't it?"

Pest grinned and carelessly sploshed through the viscous liquid to the table, fishing around in the stuff, he found the lid to the petri-dish and popped it back in place. Within a couple of seconds, the liquid within the dish ceased all movement. Pest looked pleased with himself.

"It needs oxygen to activate it."

Death nodded thoughtfully.

"And the effect?"

-o-

Pest moved to a side counter that ran the full length of one wall and pulled on one thick leather glove. Shifting to a glass tank of brown mice, he lifted the lid with his glove free hand and picked out one of the small creatures with the other. Next he pulled a pipette out of a counter drawer, sticking it into his creation on the floor and squeezing up the smallest amount, from which he dripped a pinhead's worth of the liquid onto the unfortunate mouse's tail.

-o-

At first nothing happened, then the little creature began to struggle and squeak in protest. It's squeaks turned to squeals, it's struggles becoming more frantic and desperate. Pest brought the distressed and terrified animal closer to Death and held it up for his brother's inspection.

-o-

Death thought he had seen it all, every way in which a living thing could possibly die, but the agony suffered by that tiny mouse as it's body erupted into boils that instantly spouted out evil smelling black pus mixed with blood and fragments of the animal's own innards served to shock even him. Horrified, unthinking, he reached out and took the animal from his brother, gently touching it's head with the tip of his forefinger, instantly taking away it's pain, and allowing the little thing to die in peace. Death gazed in silence at the body of the mouse whilst contemplating his own reaction to the suffering wrought by his baby brother's newest invention. Pest waited anxiously for Death to say something. At last, Death looked at his brother, an unfathomable expression on his face. Pest couldn't wait any longer.

"Well? What d'you think?"

Death answered him in a hushed voice.

"My _dear_ brother. I think it is magnificent...And it is also terrible."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N. Thank you for reading this - I was surprised by that (in a good way) I'm going  
_ _to try posting daily, with the whole fic lasting_ _ **10**_ _chapters. Look out for Crowley_ _:)  
_ Chapter 3  
-oOo-

"You want anythin'?"

Dean was already standing on the sidewalk outside the Impala. From the passenger seat, Sam shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm good."

Dean patted the car roof briskly with the flat of one hand.

"Ok. Be right back."

Sam watched as Dean disappeared into a grocery store, then continued reading through the national newspaper he had bought, specifically looking for multiple deaths or anything else that might indicate The Darkness had been busy in any specific area. Tracking the Darkness down was proving to be frustrating, but the two Hunters had no plans to quit trying.

-o-

Cruising up the second aisle, a woman's loud voice from the checkout queue captured Dean's attention.

"Honey, I don' mean to come over all judgemental but, _Goddamn!_ Ain't you got no place to freshen up? You're attractin' _flies_ man! Ain't you spotted 'em?"

Glancing over the shelves to where the voice originated, Dean saw both the checkout assistant and a large middle aged woman who fronted up the queue staring after a man who was in the process of exiting the shop. The female customer spoke again, even louder, apparently not caring that the man was probably still within hearing range.

"Girl, did you catch the _stink_ of that guy? Like he'd just crawled up out the sewer! I'll bet he ain't never even _seen_ a shower! Pheeew!...You take tokens?"

Dean glanced at the man as he turned left outside the store, catching a glimpse of the guy's profile as he strolled past the store window. Turning away again, Dean frowned, Hunter instincts causing a slight tingle up his spine. He told himself that, personal odour aside, the guy hadn't acted weird, nor had he done any harm; so he shrugged the sensation away and continued with his shopping, interrupted only by the female commentator's sudden and horrendous bout of exceptionally loud sneezing as she paid her bill.

-o-

Having purchased the Oregano that the eldest Horseman had requested, Pestilence whistled to himself whilst he headed back to his car. Gone were the days on Earth when he and his brothers could ride their stallions along the main street without attracting attention (unless they wished to) from the local populace. The car had taken over, although Death himself preferred to walk. Pestilence's own vehicle very much reflected him. The green exterior did have one comparatively clean area, where someone had written into the grime _Wash me, Dirtbag_. The interior was nothing less than an oversized, mobile trashcan, the only area of free space being the ripped and shredded driver's seat. Pestilence sat himself inside and dropped the carrier containing Death's herbs on top of a tower of old porn magazines and pulled on his driving gloves. About to turn the key in the ignition, a voice from the back startled him.

"I will be very appreciative to find you have made some attempt to at least tidy up the inside of your vehicle should I ever agree to meet you in it again. You will do that for me, won't you my dear Pest?"

Startled, Pestilence twisted around in his seat.

"What the _fu..._? Who the Hell are you, _bitch_? An' how did you get in my car?"

The dark haired woman perched delicately on the front edge of the back seat gave the Horseman a soft smile.

"Tell you what, how about you take a peek outside, then see if you can guess who I am? It will be fun! take a guess. Oh, and please, mind your language when you are in my company. Do you understand?"

-o-

Pestilence's opened his mouth to reply, and quickly closed it again when a swift glance through a grime coated window showed him nothing but ominous looking swirling black clouds surrounding the vehicle in every direction. He felt a shudder of trepidation as he slowly returned his gaze to the woman. She was smiling pleasantly and she nodded happily on seeing the shocked expression on his face.

"That's _right_. Excellent! Clever Pestilence. You know me now. And please Pest...I _can_ call you Pest, can't I?...While I will let it pass on this occasion, I expect your language to be gentlemanly when you are in my company. Do you understand sweetie?"

Pestilence was embarrassed to hear his own stammer when he answered, all signs of belligerence banished from his tone.

"Y...Yes... Lady?...Mistress?...Mistress...Um?"

"Ooo, I like that. Yes, _Mistress_ will do _very_ nicely. You and I Pest? We are going to be the very _best_ of friends, and I do so enjoy taking _very_ good care of my friends...You _would_ like that, wouldn't you Pest? You _do_ wish to _be_ my friend...Don't you?"

Pest stared at the form that The Darkness had chosen to take, and nodded eagerly, dazzled by the thought that such a perfect and powerful being as The Darkness should speak of wanting to befriend him, had chosen to show herself to him and wanted to spend time with him. His conscious brain instantly pictured how jealous War and Famine would be of his new friendship, and what standing it would give him, both in their eyes, and in the eyes of Death. He chose to push to one side the soft, pleading voice of his own instinct, warning him against the folly of accepting any possibility of a friendship between himself and this, much greater, wild force.

"Yeah...I mean... _Yes_. I'd like that very much... _Mistress_."

-o-

The Darkness reached out a hand and, without fear or concern, gently stroked Pestilence's cheek. Pestilence had never before been willingly touched by a woman, and a further shudder coursed through his body, and he was completely captivated by her. Gazing into her eyes, he felt a deep and desperate desire to please this being, to serve her, to do anything she requested of him. She was The Darkness in the form of a beautiful woman; and she wanted to call him friend.

-o-

He was briefly dumbstruck when, leaning forward, she kissed him lightly on the lips.

"We shall meet again soon, my friend. I have a proposition to put to you. For now though, I would ask that you tell no one about our friendship...Not even your brothers, and in particular, not Death. Do I have your word, your promise on this my dear one?"

Pestilence swallowed hard, already excited that she, the most powerful of entities, would want to meet with him a second time.

"You've got my word on it Mistress...I _swear_ it to you"

"Well now, _there's_ my good boy. I knew I had chosen well! My most beautiful Pest. Never fail me and, one day, I will make you the greatest of _all_ the four Horsemen. This, my sweet, is _my_ promise to _you_."

-o-

As if coming out of a dream state, Pestilence gradually became aware of the sight and sounds of the street life once more happening all around him as he sat alone in his car. The absence of the Darkness was like a physical pain in his disease riddled heart. He no longer had any interest in checking the progress of his newest flu strain, it didn't seem important anymore. Setting the car in motion, he drove until he found an isolated spot, before blinking out of existence on Earth and returning to his own plain.

-o-

Outside the home he shared with Death, Pestilence paused, taking a few deep breaths to calm his excitement before he entered. Once inside, the delicious aroma of cooking filtered through from the kitchen, and he heard the voices of both Death and War. Death was in the middle of admonishing War.

"No, no, no. Not like that! Have I taught you nothing, little brother? This dish requires gentle handling, a lightness of touch. You do _not_ have to beat it into submission!... Pest, my boy! You are back sooner than I expected. I trust everything is going well with your new little virus down on Earth? You _did_ remember my Oregano, didn't you?"

Pestilence held out the bag containing his purchase, his demeanour at once both relaxed and distracted. He needed to occupy himself, divert himself from the temptation of telling his brothers about his encounter with The Darkness. He needed time alone.

"I'll be in the lab. I might be some time, gotta do some work on my new thing. Hi War. Excuse me."

With that, Pestilence hurried off, leaving Death and War staring after him as he scurried in the direction of the lab. War glanced at Death.

"Did our little brother seem a bit, _odd_ , sort of distracted, to you? Obviously, I mean _more_ than he usually does?"

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
-oOo-

Unlocking the door to his lab., Pestilence strode inside, quickly locking the door behind himself again.

"I'm really _very_ impressed. This place is excellently equipped! I've been sat here picturing you hard at work, peering into your little test tubes, mixing this and stirring that. I should think you have created some simply wondrous things in here, my sweet, although when I got here it looked like there had been a dreadful accident. There was this awfully smelly stuff everywhere, all over the table and the floor! It was quite deep. Did you forget to turn it off before you went out? The point is, my dear, I was so worried you might slip and hurt yourself! I hope you don't mind that I made certain it all got cleared up? And guess what? I spotted this. It was swamped beneath all that unappealing mess. It seemed to be where the mess was coming from! I popped the lid back on, it appeared to stop any further mess. I wondered if this was your newest creation? Am I correct? You really _must_ tell me all about it if it is!"

-o-

At the wholly unexpected voice of The Darkness coming hot on the heels as it was from their first meeting, Pestilence spun around in surprise and confusion.

"M... _Mistress_! I... _How_?...I mean...?"

-o-

Panic churned within his stomach. _She_ was _here_! Inside the home he shared with Death! _Inside_ their sanctuary, despite the protection provided by some of the most powerful wardings known to exist! Pestilence's world suddenly tilted. He had been bedazzled by her. Clever. The Darkness was clever to take on the form of a beautiful young human woman. Who would _ever_ feel uneasy in the presence of such a delightful, elegant and so graceful a young woman? The answer came to him like a bolt of brilliant white hot lightening... _He_ now did! It was her casually greeting him when he came into his own lab, and the sight of the lidded petri-dish with it's remaining contents being held delicately between her thumb and index finger that made him finally feel that unease.

-o-

Throughout his long existence Pestilence had felt secure with one _absolute_ truth; that alongside being his eldest brother, the head of their small family and his own and his other siblings' parent figure, Death was also the most powerful entity _anywhere._ He was sat at the very pinnacle of power. This same Death who had shown himself _mostly_ capable of enduring Pestilence's teenage millennia with unending patience...Although there _was_ that one memorable occasion on which Death, in sheer exasperation, had announced a steadfast belief that God's greatest mistake was His failure to ensure that, in every single species, the "adolescent" period occurred whilst the teenagers themselves were entrapped in a deep state of hibernation! _Death_ was the strongest of them all, of everything. He was even imbued with a power greater than the entity called by so many different names, the Creator, the One he and his siblings commonly referred to as God. Death had once stated factually, without vanity or pleasure; _One day even God will die,_ and Death expected to be there when it happened.

-o-

Pestilence had actually witnessed and concluded to himself that only Death had the true power to end wars, only Death could guarantee to end the suffering wrought by famine. And Pestilence, quite to his dissatisfaction, had always known that it mattered little how devastating a _ny_ of his creations were. He was forever destined to never be the true victor in any of his battles. Death had and would _always_ have, the wherewithal to bring to a close the impact of anything Pestilence cared to inflict in any species on any world; throughout every single universe. Death, until _this_ day anyway, was the undoubted, ultimate power. But, now _she_ had come along, and shown that she was able to simply materialise within Death's personal domain. It shouldn't have happened. It should've been _impossible_! Pestilence staggered to the nearest chair, only just managing to reach it and sit down before his knees collapsed beneath the weight of his sudden insights and his entrapment within the web of his own realisations.

-o-

The Darkness quietly observed him in amused interest as, first, she saw him being confronted by his own acknowledgement of Death's strength; following it immediately with his realisation of the overwhelming significance of The Darkness being so bold as to appear here, within Death's private space. She saw the moment when Pestilence had to accept that this lithe female, with her soft voice and her gentle smile, was a force that might be more powerful than Death himself. And she smiled to herself when, witnessing Pestilence spinning helplessly within his crushing whirlpool of emotions, she saw the moment when he was suddenly yanked down into it's depths by a new emotion, one he had never known before, and it's name was Fear...

-o-

Pestilence stared at the floor, a new question springing to mind. Had either Death or War sensed the presence of The Darkness? Nervously he raised his head and glanced back over his shoulder at the locked door, as if expecting that at any moment now his two brothers would begin pounding on it and demanding to be let inside. He felt trapped, torn between his still present curiosity about The Darkness and the promise she had made him, and the newly awakened fear he felt, his loyalty to his family and the worry of what the outcome might be if Death realised The Darkness was here, in his own home; especially in the light of War also being in the house right now?

"My dearest Pest, relax my pet. Neither of your brothers have any clue that I am here. Really, you _must_ stop worrying so!"

-o-

Her words of reassurance caused Pest to switch his concerns, could she slip inside his mind, hear his thoughts without him knowing? Before this day he would have laughed at the idea that anything could do such an impudent thing; he was one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! That certainty was now gone, forever, now he was in the presence of The Darkness. She showed no outward sign of knowing his thoughts and feelings, however Pestilence wasn't fool enough to think that proved anything! He attempted to make himself relax a little, actively regulating his breathing and forcing the tension in his muscles to ease, doing what he could in the hope that his fearfulness would not be obvious to The Darkness.

" _Mistress_...I apologise...It's the surprise. I didn't expect to have the pleasure of seeing you again so soon. I'm honoured by your visit and I'd be delighted to tell you about my new creation...Un...I think first I should put that back into the freezer...Thank you."

-o-

The darkness listened intently to Pestilence speaking about the Genesis Bug, asking questions and wanting to know about every stage of it's development. Pestilence found himself relaxing again, enjoying having an attentive and appreciative audience who was clearly genuinely interested in both him and his work. His earlier fears were soon pushed away again to the back of his mind. Maybe he had overestimated her powers? Maybe they were strong, but _not_ all encompassing? After all, here _he_ was, explaining and teaching her stuff. Surely she would have had all this knowledge already if she was _such_ a great force? As he concluded his explanations, The Darkness gazed at Pestilence thoughtfully for a while before breaking the silence.

"Pest. You are my friend and so I must be honest. I am here because we need to speak, to reach an agreement between the both of us. You have something that I want and, whilst I could _take_ it from you...I would rather we were of one accord. It makes any time spent together so much more amenable, don't you agree? I can see so much potential in you young Pestilence. You have a great gift, a skill which I want you to know I appreciate, and I want you to use that skill to it's fullest. But, I believe to do that, you need guidance. Guidance that your beloved Death hasn't the time or the ability to give you... _I_ , however. I _do_ have that time Pest. Not only the time, I also have the desire. I find myself having to learn about and adapt to this world as it is now. You must realise I am able to learn all you know, and more. Why though? You already have the knowledge, and I wish to make use of it. Accept my guidance, allow me to be your mentor and I promise you, with me your rise to being the greatest of The Four is assured. Let me help you Pest. All I want in return, is to release your Genesis Bug.

-o-

Pestilence opened his eyes wide, stunned at The Darkness' promise to him. It was the recognition he had so long desired. The possibilities within the bright future she offered made him actually feel dizzy... _No, hang on! I truly do feel dizzy in a very unpleasant way!_. Pest also noticed that, at some point, he had begun to feel overly hot. He heard The Darkness speak again, and he battled with himself, trying to ignore the dizziness in order to concentrate on whatever it was she had just been saying.

"...do you agree?"

Pestilence hesitated. He had no idea what The Darkness was seeking his agreement to this time, he also made the alarming discovery that the combination of dizziness, a high temperature and now his head being pounded on like a blacksmith's anvil, meant he didn't really care. He just wanted to lie down and be able to cool down! He didn't feel like forming complex sentences, instead opening his mouth to simply agree to whatever she wanted.

-o-

He couldn't be at all sure when it was that a crow had apparently crawled into his mouth, but the only voice sounds he seemed capable of were some harsh croaking, rasping noises that he struggled to form into words.

"Yeah...Yes I...Agree...Mistress."

The Darkness smiled in delight, clapping her hands.

"There! I _knew_ you would! Now, you have until tomorrow to ensure it will work, and when it does? Imagine it, my sweet Pest. As of tomorrow, dear little Earth will start to change forever. I have learned they have a name for it down there, did _you_ know that? They term this type of thing an "Extinction Level Event." Of course, it might take four or five days before they realise that is what they are facing! Tomorrow will be a magical day! And my friend, I am allowing _you_ to choose ground zero" You deserve it...Well? Where should it be?

All Pestilence cared about was the... _until tomorrow to ensure it will work_...part, and he had to actively stop himself from groaning out loud in protest and falling to his knees in order to beg for the event to be delayed. An inner sixth sense told him that if he did so, it would prove a huge mistake, maybe even fatal. He was bright enough to recognise that although The Darkness may refer to him as 'Friend', but their supposed friendship at present was in no way on an equal footing. So, he plastered on a smile and tried to project enthusiasm.

"As you...Wish Mistress. Of _course!_ "

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
-oOo-

Pest remained seated within his lab. He was dumbfounded. This was it! This was going to be the triumph of his existence so far. By the time it was all over, he will have caused a greater number of dead, in one pass, than either War or Famine had ever come close to managing. He will be presenting Death a workload that will keep his big brother and his Reapers busier than they have ever known... _And._..Pestilences eye's narrowed as an idea formed, one he would never have considered prior to being sought out by The Darkness. He began to contemplate whether it would be opportune, whilst Death was so busy, to propose to Famine and War that _he_ should be the leader of the Four Horsemen. Should he make use of Death's absence to usurp him.? He was aware that, at any other given time, if he attempted something so audacious, so ridiculous, the only thing he would earn himself would be the irritating sound of his other two brothers' laughter, and their happy cries of derision would ring in his ears. But now, with The Darkness standing by his side? Suddenly a universe of never before considered possibilities stretched out ahead of him. Pest's lips curled into a narrow smile and, for a couple of seconds, sheer greed and want flashed in his eyes. For that brief moment, his eyes became a twin reflection of the eyes of his second eldest brother. Famine.

-o-

Inside the brightly coloured diner was in chaos, as customers and staff alike crammed their mouths with anything deemed edible, showing no concern for the one customer and two staff who had already died in the process of stuffing their faces, each of them having choked to death or asphyxiated. In one case, a young staff member had grabbed a large bag of plain flour out of the stock room, ripped open the top, and upended the bag, avalanching flour directly over his upturned face. Most poured into his mouth until there was no more room, at which point the flour streamed either side of his mouth and covered his shoulders and clothing in what looked like freshly fallen snow. The rest of the flour, as well as an amount falling straight to the diner floor, cascaded up his nostrils, blocking off his access to air, and into his eyes, quickly clogging them up and blinding him. He died whilst desperately attempting to force himself to swallow the equivalent of 1.5lb of soft flour in one go, rather than possibly manage to save himself by scooping the flour _out_ of his mouth, so overpowering was his need and his hunger.

-o-

And in the midst of the chaos, seated in a wheelchair that had been positioned at a table for two, with oxygen pipes delivering a constant stream of oxygen via his nostrils, a drip bag hung from an upright drip stand attached to the chair and evidence of a catheter bag poking out from underneath the tartan blanket draped over his legs, was the skeletally thin Famine; calmly working his way through three supper sized family meals. Behind him stood two large males, both wearing black suits and stern expressions; Famine's assistants. The three figures showed no acknowledgement of the situation unfolding all around them. Famine reached weakly for the third family meal, and his outstretched arm froze in mid-air. His assistants responded instantly.

"Are you alright Sir?"

" _Please_ , allow me to pass your meal over to you sir... _Sir_?"

Famine began to move again, pushing his wheelchair angrily away from the table, forcing his assistants to side-step quickly out of the way.

" _Stop_ fussing. Take me back to the car. I want to go to Death's home, _immediately_!... _Hurry_!"

As ever, the two males rushed to obey their employer without question.

-o-

War had noted his brother massaging his forehead with one hand a number of times in the past hour. When he did it again, War turned to look at Death carefully. Death's skin tone was quite pale normally, so War wasn't sure whether Death was paler than usual or not. What he _did_ know was that Death was in pain. He was also pretty certain that he had never _ever_ seen his eldest brother in pain before.

"You gotta headache comin' on bro?"

Death said nothing at first, then...

"I confess, I have never known such a thing, so I am uncertain, but...I _do_ have a persistent and painful pounding sensation in my head. Does that sound like a headache?"

War nodded, the worry clear to see on his face.

"Right on the nose brother. It sounds _exactly_ like a headache. How long've you been having them?"

Death glanced up at the kitchen clock.

"Around 79 human minutes now. Unpleasant, aren't they? How much longer do they last?"

War gave a short burst of laughter, a booming noise that made Death's head pound all the harder.

"They last as long as they last. You got any pain killers around here?"

Death gazed back at War in genuine surprise.

"Should I have?"

-o-

War was making his way to Pestilence's laboratory when a loud pounding at the front door made him turn and re-trace his steps. He recognised the knock, it was made by one of Famine's men. War's concern increased a notch. How could Death have forgotten to mention that Famine was on his way? Death never forgot anything. If War wanted to know what battle was fought on what day, at what time and in what year of which millenia, Death could tell him without any hesitation. Similarly, Death could also tell you what you had booked on what day and time in the distant future, and the date you had logged it. When War opened the door to his brother, War's eyebrows were knitted together in a deep frown. He was glad that Famine was here, War had decided that he, Famine and young Pestilence were due for a family meeting.

"Hi Famine. I'm gla...

"Where is he? What's the damn fool think he's playing at? Be a good chap War and make me some food while I go have a word with the young fool. I've been dragged away from my pre-lunch snack."

Stepping to one side to let Famine roll past him, War's confusion was now at the same pitch as his concern.

"Young fool? Seriously? What the Hell are you witterin' on about, Runt?"

Famine glared up at his much larger, healthier looking and physically stronger brother, with no signs of fear.

"Stop calling me that! The name's Famine. Understand? Fa...A...Minn. Even _you_ should be able to pronounce that, _despite_ your continued reliance on the one solitary brain cell. And I refer to Pestilence. He's up to somethin'. Somethin' very, _very_ stupid...Where is he? And where is Death?...And _what_ is that wholly delicious smell? What've you got in that oven, War?"

-o-

Famine stared at War, thunderstruck.

"I don't believe it! It's unheard of. _Death_? Unwell? War, my brother, I tell you now, we are facing a lamentable situation here, and I have already felt that our baby brother is somehow a part of whatever is to befall us. You are very lucky I was able to get here so swiftly to offer my assistance and support. Take me to our older brother, I wish to see him for myself. And afterwards? You and I are set to have a _serious_ word with our baby brother. If, indeed, he has somehow got himself wrapped up in something... _You_ must put an end to it...Although, possibly not until after we have eaten?" 

-oOo-  
Chick xxxx


	6. Chapter 6

_Two chapters today as I missed posting one yesterday!  
_ Chapter 6  
-oOo-

Easily carrying his brother bridal style, War silently entered Death's bedroom and paused to set Famine down, offering his arm for Famine to steady himself with. Famine paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the faint light cast by a couple of candles, the room's only light source. Eventually he made out the form of the eldest sibling hiding under a single bed sheet, the rest of the bedding strewn haphazardly on the floor, in a very un-deathlike way. The air in the bedroom smelled of slow decay and Death appeared not to have noticed the presence of his two siblings at his side. Famine's stomach growled loudly as, leaning on War, Famine moved closer to where Death was sleeping. A pained sounding voice came from under the bed sheet.

"Famine? I assume that _was_ you? Otherwise there is a Hellhound in my room."

A head of mussed up dark hair surrounding a face that was almost grey in colour, pain lines showing clearly across the forehead and eyes half shuttered, emerged from under the bed sheet. Both War and Famine were shocked to see their big brother appearing so ill. Famine sat himself down on the edge of Death's bed.

"Hello Brother. Do you feel as dreadful as you look?"

Death thought seriously about the question before replying.

"It would seem my headache has spread and now encompasses the joints in my neck, shoulders and arms. Also, why have I never been told it is possible for one's hair to ache? I am, as always, delighted to see you Famine; but why are you here?"

Famine's gaze went from Death, to War and back.

"Greed...I came in response to the beacon of one individual's greed, and I am afraid it stemmed from the youngest of us. My brothers, what has been happening here?"

-o-

War strode back and forth, pacing Death's room, trying to contain the fury he had instantly felt towards Pestilence on hearing Famine's words.

"I should go down there and drag that little skunk up here and force him to confess in front of us all what game he is playing with us. Are we one of his childish experiments?"

Sat up in his bed, Death attempted to speak on behalf of Pestilence.

"Enough War. He would never do that to any of us, he is our brother. You cannot condemn him on the basis that there is allegedly something he desires. How could his want for something cause me to feel unwell? You are jumping to potentially dangerous conclusions my dear War."

War stopped his pacing and glared at Death.

"Then allow me to drag his boil infested ass up here and let him prove his innocence!"

Death shook his head, immediately regretting it when the movement caused a surge of dizziness.

"No...No...I will go and...

Death was interrupted by Famine.

"Brothers! If I may? _I_ should be the one to talk to Pestilence. After all, I am here right now solely due to his hunger for something being so strong it called to me and drew me here. I, therefore, I have a perfectly valid reason to question him, given my nature. Are we agreed?"

Death looked relieved. He had much more faith in Famine's ability to remain calm and encourage Pest to talk to him.

"I am happy to allow that."

-o-

Famine looked to War for his decision. War's expression was grim, however, he gave one short nod of consent, followed by an impatient _huff_.

"Whatever. _But,_ once you've failed Famine; it's _my_ turn to drag it out of the pup."

Famine smiled in satisfaction.

"We are in accord then...Before I go see our Snotling; brother, Death? You carry something I want, and my want is so much greater than yours, therefore I will take it. I have the urge to fill my belly."

War spluttered out a bellowing laugh as he watched Famine move an index finger towards Death's forehead, forcing Death to cross both his eyes as he tried to follow where the finger was aiming. The moment Famine's finger touched his older brother's forehead, Famine, his eyes closed, began to take deep breaths, soaking up Death's pain and discomfort, leaving Death emptied of it all. War was surprised.

"How come I never knew you could do _that_!"

Wincing, Famine rubbed at his head.

"Just because I _can_ do it, that doesn't mean I enjoy it and _want_ to do it, so stop looking at me like that. I'm not here to absorb your rabid and frequent hangover's.

Death simply looked relieved as his aches and hurting lessened, having been reduced to a manageable level.

-o-

Pestilence reached for the glass of water he had so recently drawn from the tap but which, at the first touch of his lips, was already polluted. It didn't bother him however. It was the way it had always been for him. He had discovered long before that pure alcohol was the only drink he was able to drink without an instantly occurring pollution. He had always supposed that it was likely he would be able to drink the more powerful bleaches without the familiar taste of one pollutant or another; not that the idea of drinking bleach actually appealed to him. He knew that whilst in his physical form, drinking bleach would be as lethal to him as it could be to humans. Still suffering from occasional bouts of dizziness, an increasingly painful headache had also made an appearance and he was beginning to notice himself moving between feeling over hot and then quite chilled. He was prepared to ignore it for now, recognising that all his life, his version of feeing well would have any other being taking to their bed or even hospitalised, and he simply put his symptoms down to needing to eat. He promised himself he would do so, but first he had to decide where he wished to release the thing he had created and which, once it's work was done, would leave Earth a dead planet. He had already decided on which country he felt was the most suitable to be the home ground for his infection, and he was now gazing at a large map of the USA he had spread out over the stainless steel table in his lab. Despite feeling more unwell than usual, Pestilence was greatly enjoying the task of choosing the exact location he would like to use as Ground Zero. Virtually all the places named on the map held some kind of memory for Pestilence, be it the wiping out of tobacco crops in Carolina which, in turn, caused a year of extreme hardship for those who relied on the crop for their income, or whether it be his outing to Utah, specifically, close to Salt Lake City, where he was excited to discover that these new fangled PC things could "catch" and spread a "virus'" too! His best day so far in terms of computer viruses occurred at midnight on December 31, 1999; when he ensured nothing happened, at all! Then, out of the blue, inspiration struck, and Pestilence grinned widely, revealing all his badly rotted teeth.

-o-

He excitedly focused in on the relevant section of the map, his finger stubbing down on his favoured point of release; almost on the doorstep of the Winchester Brother's _not so_ Secret Bunker. Laughing out loud, Pestilence couldn't stop himself from performing an excited jig. It was the _perfect_ Ground Zero location. His jig ended when he stumbled and very nearly fell, as another strong wave of dizziness came over him. Managing to catch hold of the edge of the table, he stood with his head bowed, eyes closed and breathing heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth, working to overcome the nausea that had decided to accompany his dizzy spell. A firm knock at the door to his laboratory startled him.

"What d'you want? I'm busy."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
-oOo-

The voice that answered Pestilence was neither that of Death or War, which was who he had been expecting.

"Not too busy to greet your brother, surely? Not after I have taken the time to wheel myself down here to see this lab of yours. You do realise I have never seen inside? And, after all, the sole reason I am here is that I heard you...Pestilence? Are you listening?"

There was the sound of a key being turned in the lock and the door opened just enough for Pest to poke his head outside.

"What do you mean? You _heard_ me?"

Famine looked at his youngest brother seriously, thinking that somehow Pestilence looked worse in himself than usual.

"Might I suggest this is not a conversation to have while I am sitting out here in the hallway? Though if you are happy for us to talk this way, I will oblige of course."

Pest hesitated, then reluctantly opened the door fully.

"Come in."

-o-

Famine gazed around the impressive laboratory, surprised that it wasn't as grubby and untidy as he had expected. His eyes swept over the map of the USA.

"Planning a vacation are you brother? I have to say, you do look...Illerrer?...More ill than is normal for you. Are you alright?"

Pestilence sighed.

"I'm very busy an' it's a while since I ate, that's all. So...You said you _heard_ me?"

Famine could almost see the metaphorical barrier that his brother seemed to be trying to keep him behind and so, wanting his presence to be clearly felt by Pestilence, Famine eased himself out of his wheelchair and stood upright. Although Pestilence was light in build, Famine was more so, however, he stood almost a full head taller than Pestilence. Keeping his serious expression, he looked down into his young brother's eyes, noting how restless they were, avoiding looking directly back at him. The youngster had secrets.

"What is it you crave brother? What do you need to fill the void you hide deep within yourself?... _Ahhh_! _There_ it is!"

-o-

" _Stop that_! Keep away from me dammitt! Only thing _I_ crave is to be left alone by the rest of you! Go! Get out of here!"

Famine had never seen the youngest Horseman so panicked, and he stood firm against Pestilence's fear fuelled demands for him to leave. It was too late anyway. He had seen what Pestilence hungered for. _Power_. He wanted to lead. He wanted to be the Head Horseman, the position so rightly held by Death. Famine spoke softly to his frightened brother.

"What have you done Pest?"

He glanced again at the map, then back to Pestilence.

"What do you plan to do? I am your older brother, and you will answer me child!"

-o-

Pestilence was moving quickly back from Famine, stumbling and swaying as he did so. Refusing to allow him any respite, Famine moved with him.

"Are you aware that Death is ill? That he had taken to his bed? I ask you once more brother, before I _suck_ the truth out of you! _What. Have. You. Done_?"

At the news of Death being unwell, Pestilence suddenly came to a halt and looked around, desperately needing something to hold onto. Recognising his brother's need, Famine stepped up alongside him and draped one of Pest's arms across his shoulder, using his own body to prop the younger Horseman up on his feet.

"Lean on me my little brother, tell me what is wrong. Let me help, I _beg_ you."

-o-

War was in the kitchen preparing a spiced hot drink for Death when, partially by way of supporting himself, Pestilence pushed the wheelchair containing Famine into the room. Famine pointed at the kitchen table.

"Sit yourself down, before you fall. Is there going to be enough of that for our Pestilence here? It seems he too is unwell, and it is likely that you and I will be joining him and Death."

War turned around, frowning.

"What? You're making no sense. I feel fine. Hale and hearty as ever!"

Famine smiled reassuringly at the now nervous Pestilence.

"It would appear that our bright little brother here has made a miscalculation with his new creation, making something of such incredible power, some or all of it's effects are able to infect even us to a degree."

War stared at Pestilence with an odd mixture of pride and displeasure.

"Do you have the cure?"

Again it was Famine who spoke.

"He does not. Not until it is known who or what can be infected and how it effects them can a cure be developed. It is this which has been worrying him."

Opening his mouth to speak, War instead burst into a violent fit of coughing, sending him red in the face and leaving him gasping for air when it settled again. He looked down into the pan of bubbling liquid which smelled primarily of fresh lemons and mint.

"Think I'd better prepare more of this then."

He focused his attention onto the miserable looking Pestilence.

"When can we expect the cure from you?"

When he answered, Pest's voice was considerably more husky than usual, with voice sounds occasionally failing him completely.

"Soon. I ... tests tomorrow on the human world ... hopefully ... cure the day after that."

Filling the gaps in for himself, War nodded.

"Good. And you _will_ be running the test, no matter how ill, _won't_ you."

It was a statement, not an enquiry.

"I swear it."

None of the four Horsemen were prepared to give voice to the implications of the potential impact on human life-forms of an infective substance so powerful, it could cause the Horsemen themselves, including Death, to fall ill.

-o-

There was little sleep to be had that night for either Pestilence or Death. Pestilence spent his night feeling as if he were being torn in three pieces. First there was his worry that his creation had been able to impact on himself and, by then, all three of his brothers. This was counterbalanced by his excitement at the knowing he would soon meet with The Darkness again and that, together, they would bring down destruction on a whole world. However, threading through both his concern and his excitement, there was the guilt. He had lied and kept his liaisons with The Darkness from Famine, he had maintained both the lie and the pretence with War but, much more importantly, he had also done this with Death. Pestilence couldn't stop himself from imagining what might be the consequence should his lies and his relationship with The Darkness come to the attention of his beloved oldest brother, and each possible scenario that he envisaged was worse than the last. It was, then, an emotionally wretched version of Pestilence who silently slipped out of his home to keep his rendezvous with The Darkness.

-o-

Death had never experienced ill health for himself, despite his immense experience of being there at the outcome of serious ill health in others. He understood that what he was experiencing now was at the equivalent level of a human suffering a common place, and none life threatening, short period of illness. He promised himself that he would remember how bad he felt and would make use of the experience in his future dealings with any being who's end was caused by illness. If not for the fact that he was Death, he decided he could seriously be made to believe he was dieing. There wasn't one spot or single position that he was able to feel comfortable in. On top of the physical discomfort and the sheer misery of feeling like himself warmed up, (he had heard the phrase somewhere once, "Felt like death warmed up" and, ever since, it had amused him to use it), there was also the vastly greater problem that was his worry about young Pest. Pest would not thank Death for telling him, but Death always knew when Pest was hiding something or not stating the truth. Today, Pest had been doing both, and as far as Death was concerned, that meant there was something seriously amiss. Having mulled the situation over, Death had eventually come to conclusion that the proper response expected of any concerned parent would be to undertake action to find out what that _something_ was. And so Death was ready and appropriately dressed for staying hidden in the shadows when he sensed Pestilence leaving the house. Death followed soon after, relieved to find his stiff limbs loosening up somewhat once he was moving.

-o-

Battles are not fought on a Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 basis. Wars could break out on any day of the week and at any time. Those who's task it was to fight against those who caused war had to be ready to go into action at a moment's notice. And so it was with War himself when he identified that two individuals had, separately, just exited the house. It came as no surprise, he had been expecting some kind of activity to take place, and had persuaded Famine and his assistants to be prepared. He hurried along the hallway to the two rooms Famine had commandeered, first striding into the room the assistants were sharing. He walked straight over to the twin beds and gave the bottom of both beds a kick.

"C'mon men, look lively there! Time for action. Up an' at 'em! Get to your duties!"

He was a little taken aback when both the assistant's heads lifted and peered up at him, having both emerged from under the same bedclothes in the same bed.

"How come you're...? Oh. _Ooh_! I _see_! Well. Pants on and get to your master's room... ** _Now_**!"

-o-

Marching out again, War gave a brief knock on Famine's door before entering his brother's room and announcing,

"I was right. That sneaky little snot nosed Pestilence has already left...Followed not long after by Death. My guess is Death's decided to follow the runt to see what he's up to. I've woken your assistants to give you a hand. I'll see you downstairs. And just so's you know? Next time you stop over anywhere, your men only need one bed between 'em...I suggest _Queen_ sized."

And with that, War turned and disappeared out of the room again.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
 _Say "Hi" to a new player...  
_ -oOo-

"Sir?... _Sir_?...Um?...Oh, oh. Sorry, forgot...Your Maj'sty?"

"Better... _Well_? What is it?"

Crowley was sat on his throne, legs crossed at the ankles, one elbow resting on the arm of the throne, with his chin cupped in the palm of his hand as he looked blandly over at the small daemon sitting at his appropriately down sized workstation in front of his PC. Crowley curled up one side of his top lip when he recalled earlier seeing a plastic wobbling hula-hula girl doll, jiggling merrily to herself on the confined area of the daemons' desk space. Right now he could see signs of a pink glow outlining the monitor. The upper lip curled up further. Crowley remembered the sight of the unlit miniature string of pink fairy lights plugged directly into a USB port, and then sticky tac'd around the edges of the daemon's monitor. The little daemon had obviously decided it was time to switch them on. Crowley fake coughed loudly, and waited for the daemon to glance his way, before inclining his head in the direction of the pink glow.

"A little... _Festive._..Don't you think?"

The daemon blushed and glanced at his pretty light show.

"I...They're...But I... _Yes,_ My Kingnessty...Sorry."

The creature hurriedly, and sadly, unplugged his little fairy lights.

"Thank you. Now...I believe you had something to tell me?"

-o-

For a fraction of a second, the daemon appeared confused, then his eyes widened in happy recollection.

" _Yes_! Yes, Your Majessness sir. The Four Horsemen. They've all gone out...All of 'em."

Uncrossing his legs, Crowley leaned forward slightly, more interested suddenly in the little daemon's news.

"You mean, _together_ all of them?"

The daemon wriggled slightly on his office chair, his bare feet swinging a few inches off the ground.

"Um. A bit, My Highnesty. First one went, then another one, then another two went an' another two went with them."

The daemon wasn't bright, a perfect attribute when required to sit for long hours every day, staring at an uninteresting computer screen, monitoring the movements of a few individually coloured circles and being ready to report if ever a specific set of given parameters were triggered by any or all of the circles. Crowley rolled his eyes. The fact that the small creature didn't even manage to qualify as a descent sized fire log was the sole reason he hadn't ordered the little chap be burned long before now for being both as dumb as a doughnut and brain drainingly irritating.

"And, adding all that up with the help of your tiny little fingers and your tiny little toes, how many does that come to altogether?"

The daemon wriggled a touch more enthusiastically.

"Six. It come to _six_!"

"Correct. _Six_. Final question now. _The Horsemen_ is the short name, do you know the proper long name for them all?"

The daemon smiled a happy toothless smile. This quiz was too easy, he was _sooo_ going to win! He wondered excitedly what his prize would be?

"The proper long name, Your Myness, is... _The Four Horsemen of_... _The_ ... _A...Poop!_ ...Um...?"

The daemon performed a further quick count up, ending by frowning at his hands and feet in confusion. Crowley, bored of tormenting the minion, had turned his attention to the computer monitor. At a flick of his finger, the image on the monitor began to rewind, showing a selection of differently coloured circles moving around, and then becoming stationary. Another finger flick started the replay. Each horseman was represented by the colour which "Bible Bashers", (a human phrase Crowley had instantly adopted), had down as being the colour of each rider's horse back in the day, and which was the colour of each rider's car in the present day. Red was for War, black indicated Famine, green identified Pestilence and a white filled circle represented the Pale Rider himself, Death. Also showing on the monitor were a further two circles, both yellow in colour. They represented Famine's _carers._ A term Crowley particularly liked to use when Famine was around to hear it. These, then, were the height restricted daemon's extra two "Horsemen".

-o-

The fact that the Horsemen were all gathered together at Death's place was neither unusual, or a problem. However, as Crowley watched, sure enough, the coloured circles began moving around the monitor and, one by one, they each blinked out of existence. Despite their staggered departures times, it was still possible that they all had the same destination in mind. and _were_ riding out as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Crowley could only presume that they either were privy to information he was somehow lacking in; or they were acting in direct defiance of the written protocol which clearly stated that, the only time all four should be seen together was when the Apocalypse to end all other Apocalypses...Or should that be Apocalypsi? Maybe Apocalypsum?...Was due. _Nowhere_ on his "To Do" list for _that_ day had Crowley written _Order Horsemen_ to go _Herald The (final) Apocalypse!_

-o-

Crowley had to know what the Four Pains-in-the-Arse were up to. He needed a scouting party. He shouted out a curt instruction at the half pint daemon.

" _Locate them_!"

Reaching down, Crowley picked up a small brass hand-bell from the floor by his throne. He gave it a small shake, and the ear quaking, brain vibrating sound of a huge bell clanging, rolled and spread throughout every level of Hell. Crowley sat back and waited.

-o-

Within a short time six daemons that Crowley was confident fully supported his Kingship were lined up neatly before him, arms, if they had any, behind their backs. Heads, if they were blessed with necks, held high; each of them proud to be of service to The King of Hell, each hoping for big rewards. Crowley smiled with genuine pleasure as he stood facing the daemons. He was no fool, he had many enemies in Hell who would love to see him over-thrown; fortunately, most were too cowardly to do it themselves. It was, then, always good for his self esteem to be in the company of loyal subjects.

"Excellent, excellent! I have a mission for two of you. None engagement, deep cover. It would appear the Four Horsemen are about to have an illegal gathering. I want to know why? What are they up to? This mission calls for discretion, stealth. And good listening skills. The two volunteers I choose will go gather the intell., then return here and report directly to me. Nobody else... _Understood_?"

There was a unified response of _Yes Sire_!

Crowley's gaze travelled along the line up.

"Now, let's see...You, and...maybe? No...Yes, _you._ Step forward."

The two who had been chosen stepped out from the line up.

"The rest of you, diss... _Missed_. Ah, but _do_ try not to stray too far."

-o-

Once the rest had marched out of the chamber, Crowley turned to his volunteers.

"Right. You'll need to find yourselves a meat suit each, a woman out walking her dog should do it. Then you go to the co-ordinates the short arse over there better find soon. Either of you pick up something useful, get your dutiful arses back here...Excuse me, would you?... ** _Oi_** _! You._ _Tiny Tim_!... _Why_ am I still waiting for their _location_?

-o-

The little daemon's face, was pale and he point blank refused to look in Crowley's direction, an obvious fear induced reaction which had allied itself with the tremor wracking the daemon's whole body. The Hell creature's terror was such that it had developed a complete inability to produce any sound to compliment it's lip movements. Luckily, Crowley could lip-read. On gleaning what the daemon was trying to say, Crowley's gaze turned towards Heaven.

"Great! _Truly_ great. Yeah, go on, laugh. You just take the piss while you still can! You can't evade being found forever, twat, and once you're dragged out of the woodwork, mate, I'll be sure to come and have a word."

He turned again to his chosen volunteers.

"Right, listen carefully. Seems there's two bloody big flies in this ointment. Our Horsemen have decided to have their mother's meeting close to the damn Winchester Bunker. And by _close_ I mean, if their place had windows? You'd be watching them shower! So, extra care needed, I'd rather you didn't shuffle off this immortal coil. At least _one_ of you better make it back; I have to know _why_ the Horsemen are hanging out in the same neighbourhood as those two _jackasses! Right_ children, off you go, chop, chop, hurry back. Missing you already darlings.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
-oOo-

Pestilence hid himself within the deep shadows under the trees where, positioning himself quite far back from the road, he felt relatively secure from unwanted praying eyes. The spot he was in gave him a partial view of the Winchester bunker. Despite him choosing here as his Ground Zero, Pestilence couldn't completely stamp out his unease at being alone and in such close proximity to the lair of the two human Hunters, at least one of whom was at home, a fact evidenced by the presence of the older brother's black classic car. He smiled slightly. The car, or more specifically the passenger side front windscreen wiper, had provided him with an easy way to ensure the two Hunters would be amongst the first to fall foul of his newest weapon. A simple white envelope with Mr S Winchester written on it was pinned under the wiper. Opening the envelope should put a tear in the small clear plastic bag within the envelope, allowing oxygen to kick start the rapid spread of the half teaspoon's worth of the Genesis Bug the plastic bag contained. Pestilence had faith that even if the bag failed to develop a tear, it was likely one of the Winchesters would _themselves_ rip open the bag to inspect and, likely, sniff at or prod at the contents. The only other thing he could do now, was stand around and wait impatiently for the arrival of The Darkness.

-o-

The silence surrounding Pestilence was unexpectedly marred by the sound of someone failing to muffle a sneeze, and Pestilence very nearly had cause to wish he had brought a spare pair of clean pants with him. The youngest Horseman instantly froze on the spot, his mind conjuring up for him the angry face of Dean Winchester. The voice he heard came from someone who was obviously congested.

" _Blesh_ me! - Sorry 'bout dat, I didn' me'n do stardle you."

-o-

Squinting, Pestilence scanned all around, searching for the source of the nasal eruption that had very nearly sent him scrambling at high speed up the nearest tree. He did a double take when a figure dressed in white stepped away from the dark tree trunk that it had, somehow, been perfectly camouflaged against. The figure pulled it's hood down, revealing the pale face and questioning expression of Death. Pestilence closed and opened his eyes slowly, trying to rid himself of this hallucination of his eldest brother. Unfortunately, Death refused to be blinked away, steadfastly remaining at his side, clearly expecting some comment from the younger Horseman. Pestilence glared at his brother accusingly.

"You _followed_ me!"

A small smile crossed Death's face, and Pestilence was able to see the brief glisten of a fine layer of sweat coating Death's skin, as a snatch of moonlight passed over it.

"I've always said you were the brightest one."

Pestilence felt a surge of panic. He was supposed to meet The Darkness alone. He re- directed his panic towards Death, it coming out sounding much more like anger.

" _Go away_ Death, I don't _want_ you here, you're _not_ welcome. _You're ill_ , so _go home_."

Death blew his nose into a crisp white linen handkerchief prior to answering in his usual mild mannered tone.

"And what of you, my boy? Do you still feel dizzy? Are you struggling with your balance yet? Then there's War, _and_ Famine. Don't you find it just a little odd that myself, War and Famine have _all_ become unwell? And that our ill health comes so very soon after you give oxygen to activate your newest creation? We four, Pest, are The Horsemen. We are not prone to ill health. We may have chosen to take form, but we are not a species boy. We are higher beings; _entities_. Yet, your creation even had some impact on us, you included. This thing will destroy both the natural, and the supernatural, until there is nothing... So, if you have come here with the aim of releasing your dreadful infection, then I give you the opportunity, now, to re-consider. Though, Pest? Should you make the wrong decision, ... I am quite prepared to take any action necessary to stop you making this mistake."

Death wasn't a creature of idle threats. His message was all too clear to Pestilence, there was only one decision Death would accept from him. Pestilence had already realised that he and his brother's illnesses were a direct result of his own contact with his creation, and then their contact with himself. He had been so impressed by the sheer speed between contact and symptoms, he hadn't stopped to think, though, about how great the power of a disease that could even infect himself and his brothers, however mildly. Guilt vied with glee to hang out with anger who invited frustration who brought along fear to the party. In turmoil, Pestilence felt trapped between his own marvelling at what he had created in the Genesis Bug, his brother's expectation, and The Darkness' desires. Between them, neither Death nor The Darkness were likely to consider, or even _acknowledge_ , the third option; leave Pestilence to make his _own_ decision.

-o-

The sound of further movement nearby chased out every other emotion Pestilence was feeling and replaced them with blind panic. Eyes wide, he turned and physically pushed at Death.

" _Go_! _Please_ , brother, I _beg_ you. _Leave_!"

Death didn't move an inch, his dark eyes bored deep down inside the younger Horseman and Pestilence realised, _knew_ , his begging had been a mistake. His head and shoulders slumped in defeat.

-o-

Death's voice was a whispered breeze, it blew like a howling gale, it was the quiet within the eye of the storm, the deafening drum roll and cymbal crash of thunder at the shoulder, and yet, it's pitch didn't alter art all.

"What. Have. You. Done?"

Pestilence couldn't stand to meet Death's penetrating stare, afraid and unable to witness the additional hurt and betrayal he knew he was about to put in his brother's eyes.

"I have an agreement with The Darkness. I am here waiting for her...I'm truly sorry."

The silence that followed lasted a couple of seconds, and for an eternity.

" _Her_?"

"Can anyone join in here?"

-o-

Death's stare remained on the youngest Horseman as War approached, firmly holding onto a female who didn't look happy to be escorted by him. Pestilence stared at her, his heart racing, had The Darkness altered her appearance? His eyes took in the mud smeared on her forehead, recognising that it followed the shape of one of their own binding sigils. A small flicker of hope dared to light within Pestilence. If The Darkness could be contained by the binding spell, then maybe she wasn't as powerful as they had believed? The small hope was extinguished by Famine who, on foot and without his two assistants, came to stand by War.

"It's one of Crowley's. We found it spying on the two of you."

Although Famine spoke to both Pestilence and Death, his gaze was fixed on his youngest brother. Pestilence stiffened as Famine pointedly moved closer. Interest and hunger flared in Famine's eyes and he unconsciously flicked his tongue across his lips.

"So, tell me little brother. Why are we standing around here at this hour?"

-o-

It was Death who answered, an unusually hard edge having been added to his voice.

"Our brother has an appointment with The Darkness; isn't that right, Pestilence?"

As the first streak of dawn touched the night sky, it was War's captive who managed to eloquently sum up the situation.

"Oh... _Shit_!"

-o-

A pillar of black smoke touched onto the floor in front of Crowley, and gradually morphed into it's daemon form. Crowley frowned at the sight of the male daemon.

"Alright. Colour me curious...Where's the other one?"

-o-

Crowley gazed at the waiting daemon, saying nothing. He began steadily drumming the fingers of one hand on the arm of his throne as he digested the news he had been given. Almost immediately, he started to consider the potential options available to him, moving on to calculate which option was likely to prove the most beneficial. In the end it always came down to the same thing with Crowley, what action to take in order to improve his own chances of survival, and what move might help strengthen his position as the King of Hell? Crowley never let himself forget that, while-so-ever Lucifer was still alive, there was always the chance however slender, that he might again one day be freed from his cage by some idiot, and come looking to get his old job back. Finally, Crowley stood up.

"If anyone wants me, tell them to take a ticket. I'm going topside."

The daemon bowed.

"Your Majesty, should I accompany you?"

The question caught Crowley by surprise and he took a good look at the waiting daemon, committing it's face to memory.

"Thanks, but I think I'll do this alone. If you happen to see my P.A., tell him I've promoted you to...Captain of something. Whatever you want to be Captain of, and tell him I've said you're to have a uniform."

The daemon bowed lower.

"Yes Your Majesty. Thank you so much Your Majesty. I am deeply honoured."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	10. Chapter 10

_The final chapter!  
_ Chapter 10  
-oOo-

"Good morning Pestilence. I have to say, I feel very disappointed. I thought we had an agreement to keep our business between the two of us? Truly, in part it is my own fault, I shouldn't have placed so much faith in you keeping your word, I was naive to do so."

The Darkness spoke as she approached the gathered group from behind, coming out from the denser woodland. All eyes turned towards the elegant young woman who ignored everyone else, looking only at Pestilence. Angered by her words, War took a step forward, halting when Death put a hand out in front of his quick tempered brother, signalling him to stop and rein in his quick temper. Horrified by the woman's words, Pestilence had all his attention focused on the powerful and beautiful figure now standing in front of him, gazing at him placidly.

" _No_...I mean, I _didn't_ tell them, I _swear_ to you Mistress. I kept my word, _please believe me!"_

One perfect eyebrow arched as The Darkness finally gave Pestilence's brothers a brief glance, pausing to look more interestedly at the woman standing at Wars side.

"My dear, this has nothing to do with you. I intend to visit Hell in due course. You are free to leave. Be so good as to give my regards to Lucifer when you see him.."

The daemon opened her mouth to speak, thinking better of it when she felt the binding lift away from her. Catching herself half way through an unintentional curtsey, she stumbled slightly as she turned and raced for the low grade road that passed by the bunker. Only then did she feel safe enough to return to Hell. Anxious to pass her news on to Crowley, she exited her meat suit in a curling stream of black smoke, leaving the unconscious figure of the woman she had possessed abandoned by the roadside.

-o-

The Darkness focussed on Pestilence again

"You were explaining how it is that your brothers are here with you?"

"I assure you, Madam, my brother _did_ keep his word to you. Myself and his other brothers followed him here with neither his knowledge or agreement. To be perfectly frank, I'd rather he _had_ spoken to me. At which point, I would have advised against this meeting."

War took a step closer to Death's side as the woman gazed at the eldest Horseman, taking in his gaunt appearance and sharp features, her eyes taking in the silver topped walking cane, the understated elegance of his dark clothing and, finally, the dark intelligent eyes that regarded her steadily, betraying no emotion. Finally she bowed her head his way.

"I thank you for your honesty Sir. Now, if you would all excuse us, my friend and I have business matters to discuss, in private. Pest my dear, take my hand."

-o-

War strode over to the spot where his youngest brother and The Darkness had been stood. He spun around with both arms held out.

"Well? What now? Are we supposed to stand here playing with ourselves till that bitch decides to return our brother? Why was he meeting her? Death? What gives?"

"I'm afraid, my dear brothers, she wishes to get her hands on our brother's latest creation."

-o-

"Morning everybody, seems it might turn out pleasant later. Death! Nice to see you again! Is it just me, or do you look even paler than usual?...Have to say, you're _all_ looking a little shell shocked Hope I've not missed anything?...Where's brother number four?"

-o-

Famine took the task of bringing Crowley up to speed on events and what was known of Pestilence's acquaintance with The Darkness.

"...And in case you have any doubts as to how dangerous this disease is? Consider this. The thing has the strength to have infected all four Horsemen to some degree. And if you need reminding Crowley. Appearances aside, my brothers and I are not beings of flesh and bone, we are _entities_...Imagine then, what it will do to every living and growing thing on this planet? And I do include within that, angels, daemons and of course, yourself. The greatest threat ever known to life on this planet is currently residing in our brother's coat pocket, and he came here with the intention of handing it over to The Darkness, in exchange for some ill conceived idea of greatness which he is craving."

Crowley's bland expression didn't waver.

"And now she has disappeared with him...Quite the unfortunate situation all round then."

At his response, all three Horsemen stared at Crowley in disbelief. Crowley sighed heavily, rolling his eyes in that _Why_ _me_? kind of way, dismissing the Horsemen's astounded stares with a casual wave of one hand.

"Oh, untwist your frillies. I get it. End of all life, blah, blah, blah. So. I guess you boys had better rustle up four horses...Don't suppose anyone wants to swap do they? I mean, _seriously_? How is _anyone_ expected to look dashing and debonair while they're stuck on top of a _green_ horse? And speaking of, anyone else get the irony of _green_ being Pestilence's colour?...No?...Just me then."

-o-

The three brothers sat astride their respective horses and settled in to watch as some yards away from them, Crowley stood eyeing up the near 21 hand, muscular green stallion, who was silently eyeing him right back. War smiled and winked at Death, who, without returning his brother's smile, looked back at Crowley, watching him with curiosity. He had never seen anyone who was not one of the four attempt to mount a steed belonging to a Horseman, he readied himself to go to Crowley's aid...Or collect his black soul, whichever proved necessary.

-o-

He was surprised to see Crowley stuff both hands in his trouser pockets and nonchalantly move closer to the watching stallion. He begin to stroll in a wide circle around the supernatural beast, looking for all the world as if he were giving the once over to a car he might consider taking for a test drive. The stallion flicked it's ears in opposing directions and turned it's great head, tracking Crowley's progress until he disappeared around the horses own rear end. The stallion swiftly turned it's head in the opposite direction, waiting for Crowley to re-appear on his other flank, and snorting in confusion when after while the short man-thing still hadn't shown.

"There now my bonny boy. You're a clever one, aren't you my handsome laddy? Knew exactly where I should be you did. It's a rare gift to be standing so close to a horse as bright as yourself my handsome boy."

-o-

The hand that confidently stroked once down the length of it's long, arched neck. and the softly spoken voice coming from the same side Crowley had set off from surprised the horse. It turned it's head quickly again, shaking the unusual man-thing's hand off it's neck and pricking both ears forward, staring hard at Crowley, listening to his tone, recognising the sounds of praise and admiration. The horse became still as stone, waiting to see what the man-thing would do next. Still praising the huge beast, Crowley looked deep into the creatures eyes and nodded, knowing that if his next action wasn't the right one, he was going to be riding piggy back. Crowley slowly raised one hand and held the flat of his palm open in full view of the stallion, then he became as still as the horse.

War looked across to Famine in confusion.

"What's he _doing_?"

" _Shhhh_!"

War turned instead to Death, who answered in an irritated whisper before War could open his mouth.

"He's talking to the beast, using the old Scottish Gaelic of the Highlands. He's asking the horse to carry him."

" _Asking._ A horse?"

"I'm a little rusty, but roughly translated...Magnificent beast, I would be honoured if you agreed to accept and carry me. I ask this so that, together, you and I might race with the wind to the aid of your true rider. Accept me and I will do all I can to ensure that you and he become re-united, as it should be."

War looked at Crowley again with renewed interest.

"Well. I'd never have thought the little twerp had it in him!"

The brothers continued to watch the green stallion allow the King of Hell to stroke it's neck again. Crowley moved slowly alongside the horse and, as if he was born to it, swung himself easily up and in the saddle. He waited as the stirrups adjusted their length to his legs before, looking comfortable and relaxed, he trotted the stallion back to join the waiting brothers.

"Right then gentlemen. Shall we?"

As always being the eldest, Death on his pale horse took the lead. One by one The Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the King of Hell were carried upwards to gallop across the dawn sky, vanishing into a high swathe of dark and foreboding clouds.

-o-

Pestilence hated to acknowledge it, but he was scared. He was alone, seeing nothing but swirling, seething, heavy charcoal and deep purple coloured clouds above, below and all around, with him somehow suspended in the midst of them. He could feel his hair and clothing reacting to the huge amount of static in the air, his skin tingled with it. The atmosphere itself was warm and with the type of high humidity that rapidly saps the strength. It felt like the build up to some forthcoming epic storm, unlike any other seen on Earth since the First Storm had gathered and rained down on the young planet. Yet, despite the broiling movement surrounding Pestilence, there was also perfect silence, the silence of waiting.

-o-

When her appearance finally ended his isolation, Pestilence wondered whether his being alone had been the better option? It was the same form chosen by The Darkness, but this version was bigger, much bigger. Glancing down, Pestilence saw that he was now standing on the flat of her open palm. The Darkness held him up to her face.

"Have you brought it my little friend?"

Despite her great size, designed to overawe and instil fear, the volume of the form's voice had not grown with it, for which Pestilence was extremely grateful, certain he would have been deafened otherwise. Pestilence found himself only being able to look the giant presence in the one eye due to her size and his nearness. He couldn't help but chance a look at her lips, and he hoped that she wasn't hungry.

"You mean the infection?"

The one eye rolled.

"Of _course_ the infection, our agreement wasn't for a bouquet of flowers, now was it? Please don't test my patience, I can assure you, I have none."

Pestilence stood as tall as he could.

"It's safe. But I'm sorry. I can't give it to you, I _won't_ give it to you."

The darkness narrowed her eye's in warning.

"Before you explain yourself I need you to be fully aware of one thing...All I need do is close my hand...Do we understand one another?"

Metaphorically, Pestilence recognised he had come to a T-junction and it was time to choose his direction. One way, everything he had ever wanted, including an end to the humans crawling over the face of the planet Earth. A final gift from him, a disease that would spread too easily, too rapidly for any human scientist to challenge and best. Or the alternative direction, his refusal to comply. A dead end, quite literally. His thoughts strayed to his brothers. How would they respond to his demise? Would they re-invent themselves as The Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Would they instigate a recruitment drive in order to fill the vacancy he left? Or, as was the case with Famine, War and himself, would something else rip it's way into existence and into Death's charge? Death, Famine, War and...Global Warming? Co2 Emissions? Waste? Nature?..."

"Your _answer_... ** _Now_**!"

-o-

Both the sight and the thundering sound of the Four Horsemen on their fearsome steeds racing down from the heavens and crossing the skies was intended to be the most ominous sight for humanity, a portent of the coming World Apocalypse, the ultimate destruction, the final annihilation... **The End**. (Human writings had, at some point in time, tried to soften the impact by the addition of some promise about rising again; clearly they struggled with the whole concept of extinction). The sound effects however were not statutory. Travelling in silence also had it's benefits. and so it was that, without a sound, four imposing horses and their riders suddenly emerged through the pendulous, dark hued clouds and came to a halt facing she who was The Darkness. Seeing the sudden change of expression on the face of The Darkness, Pestilence turned to look back over his shoulder, and stared "bug" eyed amazement when he gained an unexpected new perspective on his own situation. Assuming his three brothers and... _Crowley?_...were still their usual size, despite looking like giants to him,

it became clear that The Darkness had not become immense in stature at all. Instead he himself appeared to have been shrunk down to the size of an average field mouse!

"Hello beautiful...I don't believe I've had the pleasure? Hope us dropping by isn't too much of an inconvenience? I've come in person to correct a slight misconception I've become aware you seem to be under. So, here I, sorry, here _we_ are...Boys? One of you hold the horse while I go make the acquaintance of this delectable young woman?...Cheers...That's better...It feels a little more equal now I'm not looking down on you...The name's Crowley. Please, tell me, by what name does a _perfect_ creature like you go by?"

Forgotten on her hand, Pestilence continued to gape at Crowley as the King of Hell strode up to The Darkness, his whole demeanour dripping self confidence from every pore, and held his hand out to her. Pestilence had never seen Crowley appear to be so at ease with himself, and he was relieved to note Crowley aiming towards her empty hand. The Horseman's eye's widened further when, seemingly on auto-pilot, the woman responded to his gesture, offering her own hand, which Crowley bent over and brushed with the lightest of kisses.

"Your name Madam?"

-o-

Crowley's charm offensive appeared to have run it's course when The Darkness snatched back her hand and stared at the back of it, frowning. She glared at the man in front of her and addressed him in the stern tone of command.

"I am The Darkness, bow before me!"

Pestilence saw the signs of Crowley taking an unobtrusive deep breath, and he knew. Crowley's supremely confident air was all an act, a show put on for the benefit of the entity.

Sorry love. A King bows to nobody on command, and surely you have a prettier name than _The Darkness_?"

Pestilence contained his urge to smile. He'd done it! Crowley had caught The Darkness off guard by referring to his status, all-be-it a title he had chosen for himself when, on spotting an opportunity he promoted himself from the role of Crossroads Daemon. Sadly, her surprise quickly faded and she looked at Crowley with distain.

"Name your petty earthly Kingdom, and I will have you watch when I destroy it."

Crowley looked puzzled briefly, then his face lit up as though he had solved that which was puzzling him.

" _Ah_! _I_ see what your problem is pet! I don't have an _earthly_ Kingdom. My bad, I _was_ told you were a little behind the times! Allow me to bring you up to speed. Old Lucy's done, defeated, deposed and disposed of. My name's Crowley...And I'm the _King of Hell..._ So, now I've introduced myself, I'll be having my Horseman back thank you. You see, it's supposed to be the _Four_ Horsemen of the Apocalypse, _not_ the Three Horsemen and one Riderless Nag of the Apocalypse. It just doesn't have the same ring to it, as I'm sure you'll agree?"

-o-

Initially, The Darkness appeared hesitant, undecided on what course of action to take, then she smiled broadly at Crowley before glancing down at Pestilence.

"Of course, _Your Majesty._ "

The Darkness pulled her hand away from underneath Pestilence, leaving him in a freefall which ended abruptly when he experienced the nausea inducing sensation of suddenly springing back to full size and finding himself lying flat on his back. Pestilence froze, his eyes frantically seeking out Death's.

" _I'm sorry brother_. Forgive me, all of you. I _wasn't_ going to give it to her, I was going to look for a way to...

-o-

...destroy it!"

Both the fast moving clouds and The Darkness were gone. As the three mounted Horsemen quickly slid down off their horses, Crowley looked around at the familiar scenery. A rough road with woodland to one side, and the Winchester bunker at the other, nearby a classic Chevy Impala was parked, a sleek black shape in the grey light of dawn.

"Bitch! Who does she think sh..."

Crowley's words were cut off by a panicked cry from Pestilence.

" _Don't!_ Stay back, don't come near me!"

Crowley felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he turned to stare across to where Pestilence was lying at the road's edge, his helpless gaze fixed on his brothers standing a few feet away from him, brought to a halt by his warning.

"What the bloody hell is that _crap_ he's lyin' in?"

-o-

Death strode determinedly to the side of the youngest Horseman and held a hand out to him.

"Come on Pest, up you get lad. There is work to be done, your brothers and I need you by our side."

" _Oi_! I asked you lot a question. Is that...?"

Leaning on the support offered to him by War, Famine looked back at the angry Crowley.

"Yes...It is indeed. My little brother's greatest creation, beautiful in it's way, don't you agree, _Sire_?"

Crowley stepped back a few paces, astounded by how quickly the deadly infection was spreading over the ground, instantly shrivelling and killing every piece of plant-life it came into contact with, and each contact seemed to boost the rate at which it moved and grew. Parts of the semi solid, stinking mass were already being absorbed into the soil, from where it could attack roots, bulbs, food crops, and the creatures who lived within the soil. Very soon it would find water, seeping into streams, rivers, reservoirs, oceans. It would evaporate under the heat of the sun, and fall back to earth again in the rain, each drop deadly to whatever, _whoever_ , they touched. Children playing in parks and woodland would be playing with death, and they would carry it home to family, to school with them at the start of the week, where classrooms would have no students left to fill them by mid-week. And as creatures and humans moved relentlessly over the face of the planet, so would the infection. Angels would reach out to touch humanity, and carry the deadly disease home. Daemon would infect daemon, and a King without an earthly kingdom would return to the levels beneath, and so infect his minions. A handshake, a hug, a kiss, a playful punch, a fleeting touch on a crowded sidewalk, brothers sitting close side by side inside a sleek, black classic Chevy Impala. Every action and interaction would serve to continue the spread, until eventually, all that remained would be a dead planet, caught in silent orbit around it's sun.

-o-

Crowley's eyes flicked from Horseman to Horseman.

"Can't _you_ lot do something? _Anything_?"

Death smiled sadly down on the desperate face of the Last King of Hell from astride his pale stallion.

"Yes, there is something that we can, and _will_ , do. We will ride. The Four of us. We will ride together. We will be seen to gallop across the skies as we do what destiny requires of us. We will announce to the world that this is coming. We will foretell it, and it will follow swiftly on behind us. It is truly the only task that is left here for us...To be a portent of the coming World Apocalypse, the ultimate destruction, the final annihilation...

 **The End!** **  
**-oOo-  
 ** _For PrawnNetwork_** _, who sent the prompt and the request for a fic centred_ _on the Four Horsemen. I hope I have done the theme justice for you. Chick xxx_


End file.
